


Gnothi Seauton

by Kt_fairy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gender Issues, Implied Violence, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Moral Ambiguity, Suicidal Thoughts, a Dionysus/Ariadne au, because why not, blood mention, people are not always nice in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-12 08:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13543482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: The boat rocked wildly, sunlight flitting across the hold from the gaps in the deck to cast nauseating shadows in the darkness, lighting up the figure sat across from him, the eyes dark and clear yet wet with the hurt of betrayal, wet like the blood mingling with the stagnant water lapping at his sandals.“For love?”, the figure gurgled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those WIP's that i thought was massive and out of control and I knew I'd never finish it and it would take aaages to edit and then it was finished and no that huge? And is now here (pt2 is written and coming next week)
> 
> Picking a summary that wasn't totally vague or gave stuff away was really hard so I gave up and just shoved something there so don't refer to that for the tone ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> [ This recreation of Mycenaean make-up ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CFm6OCzWAAAeLQg.jpg) is the make-up that features in the fic, I wanted y'all to have an idea wtf I was talking about going in.
> 
> See end notes for the list of who's who.

 

 

_The boat rocked wildly, sunlight flitting across the hold from the gaps in the deck to cast nauseating shadows in the darkness, lighting up the figure sat across from him, the eyes dark and clear yet wet with the hurt of betrayal, wet like the blood mingling with the stagnant bilge water lapping at his sandals._

_“For love?”, the figure gurgled._

_He looked up and there was a face looking down at him from the top of the steps into the hold. Features broad and strong, skin tanned and smooth, smile crooked and sly, blinking soft curls out of soft grey eyes._ _“Yes. For love.”_

_“You are loved in return?”_

_“I…”, the beautiful, crooked smile froze in place as the delicate eyes swept over him, nothing delicate about the lust in them, and then the face was gone and he watched bloodied and dirty sandaled feet walk off down the deck, away from him._

_A hot breath, thick with the sweet smell of blood, brushed against his ear, “You are alone.”_

 

 He jerked awake, blinking up at the canopy of a tree above him, the bright light of mid-morning shining through it and he moved to the side, frowning at the cold sand that his elbow slipped on.

 Alone, he knew he was alone as soon as he remembered where he was. Did not need to sit up to know that there would just be dips in the sand around the smouldering fire that marked where everyone had slept, knew they would be gone along with the small box of clothes and eastern coins he had stolen, knew that was more worthy of being victory booty than he was.

He looked up at the sky, pale and clear, and did not cry.

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 When a god stops, the world stops. Or so Zeus says, but Zeus says a lot of things and does a great many things and they do not often match up, so Dionysus takes those things with as much of a pinch of salt as a half mortal could take with the words of the King of the gods, Lord of Olympus, Ruler of the sky, and his father.

 That said, when a great bellow full of pain and betrayal rang out across the sky Dionysus did stop, and the half a mile train of his followers stopped their dancing, turning as he did to look out across the endless wine dark sea do the shapes of the far flung islands of Greece.

“What’s happened?”, he asked Silenus who was stood beside him in his chariot, running his fingers thoughtfully through his moustache.

“It sounds like a great bull has been felled”, the Satyr answered carefully, already giving Dionysus a meaningful look when he glanced over at him.

“The Minotaur?”

 The creature was a very distant relation (on it’s mother's side) but his attention was not drawn by the pull of family. Dionysus is the Bull Horned god to some; they praise him by praising sacred bulls, recognise his power by recognising the power of a bull, so the sound of such a powerful and peculiar one in pain, one who lived in Crete who held cow’s most sacred, called to him.

“I believe so. Are we going to go there?”

 Dionysus looked down the line of his followers, a mix of people and creatures who had joined him on his long journey from India to Greece, before looking back towards Crete, “Do you think it was Theseus? The Athenians?”

“You are the god.”

“I know.”

“But…”, Silenus muttered, leaning his elbows on the side of the chariot.

“Yes, old friend and teacher?”

“I have a feeling a certain redheaded someone has got themselves in trouble again.”

 He was always in trouble, always had been Dionysus felt, and usually he was amused and charmed by such spirit, keeping away because...because even though he was an immortal god sometimes he felt all too human.

“If the Minotaur is dead then that is a serious trouble. I will speak with my Uncle”, Dionysus handed the reigns of his chariot to Silenus and stepped from it, feeling the wind trying to dislodge the flowers from his hair as he plunged through the air, coming to rest lightly on a platform of ivy floating on the uncalm sea.

 He slapped his bare foot against the unorderly waves a few times, shaking the water from it as he waited. The bob of a fin was the first sign he had been heard, then another popped up, then another until his little raft was surrounded by circling sharks, a shadow in the water his only warning before a friendly face popped up from the waves, smile widening when he saw Dionysus and propped himself up on his elbows on the edge of the Ivy, “Hello there stranger!”

 Dionysus crouched down and took one of Triton’s hands, “It’s been far too long. How are you? You’re looking a lot less barnically.”

 Triton glanced at his smooth shoulders before grinning up at him again, “Got someone to look good for now.”

“Do you now? I hope to meet her one day soon.”

“I can go and get her now?”

“I’m afraid I need to ask what your half-brother is up to.”

Triton laughed, “Which one?”

“Theseus.”

 Triton’s face, that was usually glowing with an internal happiness and peace, became serious, “Minos was feeding people to the creature, something had to be…”

“The living child of that house is where my concern is directed.”

“I told you hesitation would lose him.”

“He was never mine.”

“And yet you ask after him?”, Triton sighed, reaching out to touch his knee, the water on his hand soaking through the thin material of his chiton to tingle against his skin, “Go to Naxos.”

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 This had been his third walk around the island this day, for all he knew his hundredth since he had woken up here alone.

 He had only one person left to lie to, so he told himself that these walks were to gather water from the mountain spring which flowed with clear, slightly bitter tasting water. There was nothing better to do than scramble over the rocky hills and dips of the island to look out from its high points to neighbouring Paros with it’s large central peak straining towards the sky, to the smaller isles to the south whose names he did not know but could see the sacrificial smoke from their temples, the only sign of life upon them.

 They were so close, he might swim to Paros from a jutting peninsula on his island, could build a boat if he wanted to, he was sure he could, but he had not. Just like he hadn’t moved from the beach to be closer to the spring, just like he had not made a shelter, just like he had not tried to make something better to walk around the rocky outcrops and steep slopes of the island than his delicate, soft leather sandals.

 He would not let himself die, but he was not sure he wanted to live.

 His feet were bruised, covered in cuts and scrapes that did not hurt all that much. A memory came to him, of ignoring his father’s orders and escaping from the palace to explore the rocky forests of his home, of being discovered and having his sandals taken from him so he went barefoot and had cut his little feet to ribbons.

 The thought of home, the thought of his father and of his nurse who was so, so much kinder than his mother, sent a sweep of cold through his sweating body and he ground his foot down hard on a rock, the biting stab of pain giving him something else to think about.

 He squatted on the damp soil by the spring, reaching out his hands so his fingers were submerged, watching the clear water run over them. The breeze was gentle here, the rocks surrounding the spring shielding it from the sea breezes that made his lips taste like salt and prickled his cheeks.

 He sighed loudly, flinching as a startled bird made a racket as it flapped clumsily into the air, following it’s path with a glare. “Stupid”, he muttered, sinking his hands further into the water so the coolness could wash over his wrists.

 The whistling of the birds wings through the air faded leaving the soothing gurgle of the stream and something else on on the faint breeze. He cocked his head, listening, and swore it sounded like banging. No, he had filled his father’s hall with music enough to recognise a drum beat, rhythmic and foreign. Though, he supposed, being Cretan on these Islands meant he was the foreign one here.

 Still trying to make out the drumming he leant forward, pulling his hands from the stream as he leant over it to try and catch his reflection. He should probably wash away the paint on his face as it was not meant to remain on the skin for so long but it was all he had left of home, the now dirty white covering his features and the - the small red suns on his forehead and chin, on the points of his cheeks that his niece had painted on so carefully the day he had…

 He stood abruptly, stamping where his rippled, fuzzy reflection had been in the water.

 

                                                                                      _X_X_X_

 

 Dionysus looked down at his feet, his golden toes dipping into the wisps of cloud the wheels of his chariot were kicking up as it moved down towards the Cyclades islands, towards Naxos.

 His followers were not mindless creatures he kept around to boost his ego and follow his orders. Some had been with him since before he crossed the mountains to leave India, they were his friends, were more of a family to him than all his Olympian siblings and cousins who had forgotten about him while he had been hidden half the world away from Hera’s wrath at yet another of Zeus’ affairs bearing fruit - him.

 They had all been told why they were going to Naxos although it had embarrassed him. He was an immortal son of Zeus, he should have swept down to declare his love at the first sight of Ariadne’s bright eyes and the stubborn set of his shoulders, but his mother had been a mortal and that feeling of Love itself, and the shy timidness that came with it, was, for good or ill, her legacy.

 Offers to chase down the Athenian ship had been given of course. They loved him and hated to see the emotion in his eyes when he had come back from speaking to Triton. He was not angry that Ariadne had been...had loved another, not when he had lacked the bravery to do more than look from afar. What he was angry about was that Theseus had taken something Dionysus himself would have treasured and then cast him aside as if his worth was that of a broken pot.

“Am I wrong to wish he had been taken to Athens and married over abandonment?”

 Silenus was slouched next to him with his face turned up to the sun, letting out a cloud of sweet scented smoke as he spoke, “You’re a god, little brother, you’re only wrong if Zeus says you are.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“No,” he conceded, holding out the pipe of sacred herbs for Dionysus to take, “but I’m not stupid enough to lie to you”, he watched as Dionysus took a lungful of smoke and let it out slowly, “What are you going to do when we get there?”

Dionysus jammed his foot further into a cloud, letting it stream between his toes and swirl away into nothing, “Help.”

“Be careful, you know the effect you have on people. He has been alone for a week, on top of what he did, and had done to him. He may be half wild... ”

“Who better to help than the god who turns mortals wild with one hand and soothes their agonies withthe other”, he snapped, the chariot rocking as Dionysus stood, handing back the pipe as he moved to take the reigns again.

 

                                                                                      _X_X_X_

 

 The fire he had built was still smouldering when he arrived back at the shaded curve of beach he had woken up on days ago, collapsing down next to it on one of the blankets he had been left. If they had abandoned him with nothing he could put all other thoughts aside and simply hate, but they had cared enough to leave him with some food, blankets, a bucket, some rope, a knife.

 He ate the last of the cheese angrily, glaring out at the rippling sea. Kindness, it would have been kinder for his heart to leave him with nothing, not this shadow of the lie that was affection and gratitude.

 Movement from the rocks behind him signalled the arrival of his only companion. She had appeared the first night, slithering cautiously towards the heat of the fire, staying well away from him so he let her be. Not that he would ever have beaten her away with a stick, so similar was she to the snakes of the priestesses back on Crete he had erred on the side of caution, hoping she would not poison him while he slept. Over the past few days she had ventured a little nearer to him each time she came to the fire, her cold black eyes always watching.

 She might be a spirit of the island, come to inspect her new mortal resident, so he had thrown a bit of cheese to her. He had no idea if snakes did eat cheese, but he had hoped the offering would be appreciated nonetheless, and the next morning the cheese had been gone.

 When the snake came to rest by the fire he threw her his last mouthful, “I hope you would be kind enough to send birds or fishes this way“, he said to the snake, the first words he had spoken all day, “maybe a rabbit, if you do not wish them all for yourself. I will not be ungrateful if you send me a rat, but, for all I am reduced to, I have not yet lost my pride”, he stood, stretching out his legs, “I will leave you be now and let the sea wash the ache from my feet.”

 The snake flicked out her tongue, watching impassively as he walked down to the tide, carefully taking off his scuffed sandals as he stepped into the water, hissing as it burnt all the cuts in his skin.

 Talking to a snake, this is what it had come to. He had been walking around in circles for days in a mixture of hollow despair and anger so he might already have driven himself mad for all he knew. Maybe he had been mad all along; he had betrayed his father, got his half brother killed, fled his home and country all for a bright eyed boy amongst a shuffling band of youths brought to die as punishment on a city that had killed his oldest sibling.

 In the silence of the tide rushing in around his legs he thought he head music again. He kept his eyes closed, trying to pick out what song it could be, what city it might come from, but it was alien to him, loud winding flutes and pipes, a thumping, insistent beat of drums. He thought he could hear words but they were distorted to shrieks and loud ululations. Maybe it was a punishment, some gods come to torment him for his treachery. It would be well deserved.

 The clear tinkle of a rattle sounded from behind him and he screamed, staggering into a wave that almost knocked him off his feet as he turned.

 There was a youth, dressed in a long saffron yellow chiton belted with silver ropes, green leaves weaved into dark curls, moving up the beach. Their actions looked like dancing but it was none he recognised, each action imprecise and smooth, strangely elegant, the hand not holding the rattle moving in intricate shapes that seemed to be independent of what the rest of their body was doing.

 He stood frozen in the surf as the youth steadily approached, beautiful face serene, eyes downcast. This was either a hallucination or the snake really was a spirit and had come to say hello - the very last thing he needed this to be was a god. The youth drew level and paused, rattle held aloft, an  perfect foot outstretched to take a step, looking along one elegant shoulder at the abandoned child of a King standing stunned at the edge of the ocean.

 Their eyes sent a jolt through him, hair prickling on his arms like it used to when he was very small and was made to stand before the huge, bellowing sacred bulls that radiated a primal power, the promise of the capability to do harm. They were pale eyes, endless and overly bright, and they seemed to drag Ariadne into action.

 “Are you…” he stammered, then hurried out of the sea to stand a respectful distance from the new-comer, “if you are a god please tell me your name so I might erect an altar here to you, so the island might properly remember your coming. And...and if you are not a god, please tell me so I will not give you the name of one and offend those immortal powers.”

 The longer those eyes looked at him the harder his heart beat in his chest, the more afraid he was, his body wishing to flee but he could not, and then a small smile graced soft lips. In a blink of an eye the visitor was no longer a sensuous youth looking coquettishly over their shoulder, he was stood proud and upright, booted feet planted confidently in the sand, a leopard skin draped over the saffron chiton, nails golden, lashes flecked with gold, eyes ringed in black, berries weaved like jewels into his long curling hair which was circled with ivy, a staff wrapped in golden vines held easily his hand.

 He knew he was gaping, aware he should probably say something to Dionysus, an Olympian god, but found he was struck dumb.

 “Those are nice words. Polite words. I like them”, the god in a deep, gentle voice, smile still pulling at his mouth.

“I - I - ”

“Do not worry, Ariadne of Crete, so far from home. I know a thing or two about madness, and you are not mad.”

“That is exactly what a madness might tell me.”

 Dionysus laughed, the sound like the first drops of rain after an arid summer, “Smart and cheeky!”, he made as if to move and was suddenly at Ariadne’s shoulder, “Delightful”, he murmured, spun, tripped, and then was standing in the middle of the beach again, Ariadne’s head spinning.

“Thank you? Thank you, Lord. I have little to offer you except warmth of a fire and somewhere to sit…”

“I need nothing, but your hospitality is most kind Ariadne”, the way he said his name, almost as if with relish, made him prickle, irritated by it, but knew better than to let that show. Judging by the pleased look on the god's face he was not wholly succeeding.

 They stood in silence, Ariadne shifting uncomfortably and Dionysus looking at him steadily, inhuman eyes unblinking. He had no idea what to say, emissaries and merchants and Kings and farmers he could deal with but a god was very far outside of his education. He knew the tales and hymns, how they told that when a god appeared one of three things happened; punishments were decreed, gifts were given, or a body taken, and Dionysus did not appear to be holding anything to give to him.

 “Does your hospitality extend to my followers?” Dionysus asked suddenly, startling Ariadne who nodded automatically.

“Of course, Lord.”

 No sooner had he spoke than the spare woodland leading down from the hills to his patch of beach was full of noise, and after the shock of it subsided he realised it was the music from the night before but much, much closer and a lot louder.

 Naxos was a spare place, not barren but not exactly a fertile paradise, rocky like most of the islands, so the sudden appearance of light footed deer was unexpected, that they were happily picking their way amongst the trees along with lynxs and and mountain lions was almost as much as he could take.

 There were long haired youths playing instruments, singing, laughing, dancing, spilling out onto the sand along with satyrs who stomped their hooved feet to the beat of the drums as they tooted on their pipes.

 He stepped back, the sudden influx of people after a week alone overwhelming, and bumped into an unnaturally solid chest,  Thank you, Ariadne child of King Minos, for inviting my followers onto your island.”

“You are most welcome”, he swallowed, leaning away from Dionysus’ burning heat, the clean pine smell of him, “but it is not my island. You are free to come and go as you please.”

 Careful fingers respectfully touched his elbow and he jumped, forcing himself not to pull away as the thick taste of wine appeared on his tongue, turning to look into silvery eyes that were...they were too beautiful and too endless, “I am the son of Zeus, if I say this is your Island then it shall be so.”

 They watched one another, Ariadne trying to work out what the god wanted and Dionysus seemingly happy to allow the scrutiny, the noise of the revel going on around them swelling to a pitch that was bordering on out of control but was strangely, inexplicably, peaceful all the same. “Thank you”, he finally said and Dionysus smiled again, showing a gap in his front teeth which was startling human and yet did nothing to mar the solid beauty of his face.

“So polite! I never met anyone who grew up in a palace with such manners”, keeping his eyes on Ariadne he turned his head and called for wine, holding out a hand that had a broad bowled Kylix immediately placed in it, “For you.”

 Ariadne looked away to take it, being careful not to slosh the dark liquid down himself and glanced back up at Dionysus who was still watching him with an amused smile. “I pour out a libation for the gods below and above”, he sang softly, tipping some out at his feet, “I pour out a libation for Dionysus.”

 A great cheer went up, everyone crying out “ _Euhoi, euhoi_ ” at the mention of the god’s name, going back to their revels when he fondly waved their praises down, catching up Ariadne’s wrist when he made to pour out the second libation, “As I am god of wine you will understand if I prefer you to drink your offering to me.”

 The cup was very full, and Ariadne had always been given very diluted wine to drink. He thought this much stronger drink would make him splutter and shudder, that everyone would laugh, that he would get drunk and be even more at the mercy of the god at his back. But the wine was as smooth and rich as it was dark, gently spiced and sweetened with just the right amount of honey, a pleasant warmth spreading through him as it settled in his stomach.

 “Is it to your liking?”, Dionysus asked, looking earnest when Ariadne glanced back at him.

“You know it is, Lord.”

 Perfectly thick, neat eyebrows rose at the bold statement and Ariadne turned away to watch the writhing bodies in the firelight.

 It was his boldness and curiosity that had got him here, had always been told to bury deep down alongside his temper. That way ruin came, and the house of Minos had suffered enough ruin for generations. He had piled further shame on it, yet another tale of lust and tragedy to lay at his father’s door. He had always been a strict man, but he was fair, he loved his children, could not even have the infant Minotaur put to death for the abomination it was, could not do that to his wife no matter what she had done to conceive it. He did not deserve to be known as a man who could not control his own house when he was such a fair and kind ruler.

 Ariadne gulped down the rest of the wine to wash the bitterness from his tongue, watching in delight as it filled up again immediately. He held up the cup to look at the bottom, inspected each handle, dipped a finger into the wine to poke at the bottom, curious to see if it was some clever device in the cup and feeling a little disappointed when it turned out it was just the power of a god.

“I made the cup, adding wine I trod myself instead of water in the clay. It fills with whatever I wish it to, no other will do this”, the smooth voice spoke clearly at his shoulder.

“You made this?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful. The Kylix I mean, it is so light and delicate, the handles formed so perfectly”, there was no answer, and when Ariadne glanced back at him he thought he saw a flush on the gods dark cheeks as he looked away, obviously flattered.

 Ariadne felt an answering blush on his face and turned away again, yet again glad for the white paint on his face. He looked down at the cup after another gulp of the delicious wine and caught sight of his dirty fingernails that were ripped and broken. His robes were just dirty and ragged, half of the skirt torn off to make a sling to collect firewood and wraps for his hands when he scaled a tree for its fruit. The white on his face must be flaking off and filthy by now, the red suns that had been painted on so carefully probably smudged and smeared. And here he was, thinking he could flirt with a god - what an amusing sight he must make.

 He looked around, trying to see where the rest of the wine was so he could make an excuse of going to try it and get away from the presence just in the periphery of his vision, an insistent tingle on the edge of his consciousness, but could not see any. Instead he watched one of the genderless youths stabbing at the ground beneath the trees with their staff until something bubbled up from the soil, realising when they bent to drink that it was milk.

 Looking around he saw that was all anyone was drinking, cupping it in their hands from springs in the ground where a staff had been driven in.

 Everyone else was gorging themselves on milk, fucking _milk_ , and he had the refilling wine cup. Getting drunk along with everyone else was one thing, but to be singled out, to be the only drunk in a crowd was too much - he had no purity left, but he still had his pride and anger. It boiled up in him, sudden and hot, and he launched the cup at the fire without a thought, smashing it on the stones set around it to keep it from spreading.

 Silence fell so suddenly it was almost tangible, a hundred eyes turned to him as he spun around to shout, “I am a grandchild of Zeus, I will not be made pliant to all your whims with _drink_!”

 As suddenly as they had appeared everyone around them vanished, stepped away and out of existence, the Island back to being dark and quiet and still, and he was left looking at Dionysus, his face shadowed and impassive, his eyes like the dark holes in a mask.

 He had just raised his voice to an Olympian, had broken his wine cup. The god would be furious, his followers angry, and he knew that no matter how fast he could run, how well he knew Naxos, he would never outrun their hunt if Dionysus decided to set them on him, would have even less of a chance if he drove him out of his mind first.

 He was always getting a smack with a sandal for his temper, driving his father to bellowing on the occasions his stubbornness would have him refusing to apologise, ‘ _When you marry, other Kings won’t be so lenient when you raise your voic_ e’ he was told, ‘ _they will not spare your body out of love like your father does'._  In that case, he had always thought, he would rather die than be married off, and it looked like he had got his wish.

 The weight of what he had done hit so hard it made his knees buckle and he dropped heavily onto the sand, retching against the rising bile in his throat. He would not beg and plead for mercy, but he would apologise for the Kylix, he had meant what he said about it, “I’m sorry about your cup, it was very fine.”

 Dionysus came closer, leaving not a track in the sand, leaving his staff standing beside him as he took off his crown of ivy and chucked it away, letting his leopard skin drop off his amber shoulders and knelt before him. “I have other cups”, he said, “ I know I did not make it sound like that, but I was trying to impress you.”

“You do not need to try. You are Dionysus.”

“More people are more frightened of me than impressed.”

“Sometimes it can be both”, they looked at one another, “The Minotaur, my brother, he frightened me very much but I was impressed by him as well. He was...terrible and magnificent.”

Dionysus stayed quiet for a while and Ariadne let him be, waiting for the other foot to drop, for him to fly into the rage he deserved, “Do you love him?”

“He was kind to us, I think he knew we shared a mother and would let us stroke his head…”

“I mean Theseus.”

 Ariadne looked away sharply. The gods probably knew every sordid detail of what Athena’s golden boy had gotten up to with him, “I loved the idea of not being married off, being expected to let a stranger have my body for the sake of...politics. With what my mother did, with how my sister died in the riots in Athens when she was there to offer trade, I was not allowed freedoms and was told no-one I married would allow them either. So I loved the freedom he could give me, and it made me very foolish.”

 Dionysus pondered that for a while, then nodded, “I will not touch you unless you want me to, this I promise”, the words hung in the air between them a moment as Ariadne watched strong, elegant fingers dig into the sand, “I have grow you a shelter.” Ariadne looked around in surprise and saw that where he slept was now a bed made of thick vine trunks, swathed all over in ivy to protect from the elements, “the ivy will not harm your skin.”

“You’re very kind to a mortal who has shown you disrespect.”

“My mother was mortal, so I understand why you are so angry. Please, sleep.”

 The least he could do was use what Dionysus had made for him so he pulled himself up on his still trembling legs and crawled into the bed, “Thank you”, he said quietly, looking back at Dionysus who was still kneeling on the sand, the dying fire bathing him in gold.

 He nodded his head slowly, not sparing Ariadne a glance so he curled up on his side, limbs heavy, eyes sore, and slipped into the easiest sleep he’d had in weeks.

 

                                                                                      _X_X_X_

 

 There was a rush of waves, the bright fresh scent of a sea breeze, and Dionysus was no longer alone, “That could have gone worse.”

“I was too forceful.”

“I...that was not forceful. Overbearing maybe, a little intense, but not forceful at all.”

 Dionysus groaned and sat back on his heels, “You see one of the twelve great gods of Olympus, brought low by a mortal boy.”

“Boy? I would hardly call him that”, Dionysus shot him a hard look and Triton held up his hands, “I meant he is too old to be a boy. Nothing more.”

“He’s barely twenty, and I fell over myself trying to impress him. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

Triton threw his long, strong legs out in front of him and leant back on his hands, “Is that so bad? You lot up on Olympus are so concerned with how people see you, I do my duty and am content as long as that is respected. I do not lose dignity by leaping with the dolphins instead of gliding with the sharks.”

“So I should leap with the dolphins?”

“Would you?”

“Not right now.”

“It might cheer you up? Look, he is scared and wracked with guilt, I do not blame you for making such an impression, you are a god, but do not take your father as an example. Gentleness is a far better way to show your affection.”

 Gentleness was easier said than done for a god with ancient powers like his, but people came to him because he was an opened armed god who promised peace and healing, it had never been out of his reach but...there was something about Ariadne’s hard won smiles that made him want to burn in his full, godly power. “If I come swimming will I get to meet your lovely lady?”

 Triton sighed, “She is lovely, beyond my simple tongue to describe, and far better than I deserve.”

“Not too lovely I hope,” he teased as he let Triton help him too his feet.

“My friend, if your head was going to be turned away from your indelicate Cretan then it would have already. Let Silenus watch over him and come and clear your head in my ocean.”

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 He sighed and stretched, rubbing the back of his hands over his eyes and pulling a face at the taste of old wine on his teeth, pushing a broad leaf from his face.

 He sat up, body aching with overuse and from the depth of his sleep, and sat for a moment, for once not going over and over what he had done and instead trying to make sense of what had happened yesterday evening.

 It felt like a dream, like a madness, and it was only the cocoon of soft leaves which told him that somehow it was all real.

Carefully he pushed aside the curtain of hanging vines, peering out into the morning light which shone off the sparkling waves, blinking at the sight of a deep bath sat on the shore with a slight, mustachioed man sat next to it.

 “Welcome back to the realm of consciousness. I am Silenus, I...helped bring Dionysus up. He didn’t want you to wake up alone”

“Oh, that was kind of him. And you.”

 They looked at one another across the ashes of the fire, Silenus with the peaceful expression of a man wise beyond his years and Ariadne unsure, gaze flicking between him and the bath.

“You slept well?”

“I did, thank you.”

“I won’t harm you, no need to look so wary. I was never one for leaping on people, no need to be afraid. Come closer, come closer! Dionysus is my friend and student, I’ve known him since he was..well...I assume you know what happened when he was born? Messy business, terrible - ‘I promise I will give you anything you ask’ Zeus says and what does his mother ask for? A Thunderbolt and is killed instantly. A lesson in semantics there I feel. Are you hungry? There’s milk and fruits and all that good stuff you mortals eat around here someplace, I’ll call for some if you like? Or should I not offer you milk seeing as your brother…”

 “You talk a lot”, Ariadne said as he came close to the bath - a deep bronze thing decorated in diving dolphins with little black jewels for eyes and swirling seaweed inlaid in green tarnished silver - peering into the scented waters that filled it. He knew he stunk, that he was dirty and half wild, but it was no more than he deserved. No-one who had done what he had to his family should look anything other than a disgrace. But to be clean and sweet smelling again was very tempting.

“And you manage to both not say a lot and fail to keep your thoughts to yourself. Oh come, I meant no offence. I am sorry. You should know yourself - ‘ _Gnothi Seauto_ n’ as the Lord Apollo likes to say.” He fell silent and Ariadne glanced up at him, not sure he liked the considering look in the green eyes regarding him,“Dionysus drew the water for the bath himself.”

“Oh?”

“It’s for you.”

“What.”

“The bath. It’s for you.”

 Ariadne looked down at it in alarm. There was no ulterior motive here, Dionysus had given his word on that, but a god heating a bath for him? That was unheard of, “I do not wish to question the actions of an Olympian but why would he do that?”

 Silenus smiled none too coyly, leaning closer to Ariadne as if to share a secret, “Well, you see, a few years ago he was going past…”

“Ah!”, the deep voice that sent a not wholly pleasant thrill racing under Ariadne’s skin called out and they both whipped around to see Dionysus stepping down from his chariot which had appeared on the rocky treeline, “You’re awake. Well rested? Good, has Silenus offered you anything to eat or has he been letting his mouth run away with him?” he shot a look at the man who feigned innocence when Ariadne looked at him.

 “He did, Lord. I had not yet accepted - oh”, at a motion of a hand from Dionysus a satyr came tumbling out from the rocks bearing a plate of fruits and a small table, hurrying over to place both next to the bath before skittering off again.

 “You will bathe?” Dionysus said airily, turning back to the bath and flicking the side, the hollow sound echoing on the quiet beach. It was not a command, and yet Ariadne felt that familiar fire in his belly that always came when one was given to him. The need to refuse, to storm away, to tip the fruit into the bath came upon him with force but receded quickly, his lesson to not be rash finally learned it seemed.

“I will need to wash my clothes so they can dry…”

“You don’t need to worry about that”, he stated proudly and Silenus hefted himself to his feet, nodding a farewell to them both and making for the rocks the satyr had appeared from with barely concealed haste, “I am a god after all, please. Before it gets cold.”

Ariadne stepped closer to the bath, shifting on his sore feet as he combed out his braided hair with his fingers, glancing over at Dionysus before reaching for the belt of his robes.

“Oh shit, no, wait. I won’t look.”

 The great god of ecstasy and fertility, of the theatre and music, of the bull and the serpent and the tiger, covered his eyes and turned away as if he was a servant boy who had almost peeked at what he should not. Ariadne stole glances at him as he undressed, the way the sunlight caught in his dark curls, the shifting of his skin between amber and gold, the way the air around him seemed to shift like in a heat haze over the earth in the most unforgiving summer days, the soft, steely power of his body. The sensuous curve of his muscular thighs.

 Ariadne shook that thought out of his head, dumping his filthy clothes on the sand and hurrying to slip into the wonderfully warm water, unable to keep out a noise of pleasure as it soothed his aches and bruises, taking a deep breath before dunking his head beneath the surface.

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 Dionysus turned at the sound of the splash, smiling when he saw pale knees showing above the rim of the bath and made his way over to the finely made robes of many coloured patterns which now lay in a pile of tattered, dirty ruins. He considered it for a moment, wondering if it had been made by beloved relative, but Ariadne’s nieces were too young for such workmanship, his sister had never been one for the loom and his mother would not make such a thing for anyone.

 Coming to the conclusion that it held no importance he touched the fire which crackled back into life and threw the bundle of fabric on to it, watching as it shrivelled and burnt, turning away when the smoke tickled his nose.

 Sharp copper eyes were watching him from an face that looked young in its uncertainty and strange in its bareness. Dionysus had never dared to commit the intrusion of going to Ariadne in his rooms, ignoring the unwanted advice of his many half-brothers, so had never seen him without the ceremonial paint on his face that marked him out on Crete as - well, as something he was not.

 For a moment he felt as if he should not look, but a sudden flush ran from his soft cheeks all the way up to his ears poking out from his wet hair which was pooling around his shoulders and Dionysus could not look away if he tried.

“I do hope this was not a ploy to get me naked”, he said dryly, not a speck of deference in his voice, and Dionysus grinned.

“And I hope you think me capable of more subtlety. No, you clothes were beyond repair so I fetched some new ones for you. Do not look so startled” he called over his shoulder as he went to collect the bundle from his chariot, “they’re hardly from the loom of Athena. Just some things my followers donated.”

 He laid out the swath of fabric from India, the bright belts from Egypt and the soft boots from the highlands of Asia on the sand for Ariadne to look at, placing one of his leopard skins next to it in a fit of boldness.

 Ariadne’s eyes flicked over it all and he sunk down further into the water, “I do not deserve such kindnesses.”

“Maybe so amongst men, but I am not a man so from me you get it all the same. May I approach?” he asked, waiting for Ariadne to nod before he moved, almost tripping on the belts which luckily did not break, embarrassment lessened by the sudden movement Ariadne had made as if to leap up to catch him if he fell, “It suits a god of wine to be clumsy”, he said was he righted himself, missing the smile Ariadne forced off his face.

 The water was cloudy enough from the oils poured into it and what Ariadne had washed from his face to hide his nakedness when he stepped up next to the bath, but Ariadne used his long tresses as extra cover all the same, “You have injuries which need tending to, your feet especially. Wounds fester when left untreated and would poison your very blood. Allow me to bring a healer to you.”

“You have done enough for me.”

“And it will all be wasted if you die.”

 Ariadne moved his hand slowly through the water, shrugging a shoulder, “I am mortal, I will die anyway.”

“That is stubbornness and willful cynicism”, Dionysus said, crossing his arms over his chest, “which is beneath you.”

“Is it?”, he asked, blinking his hair out of his eyes as he looked Dionysus in the eye.

 He was alone and naked and yet let not one flicker of fear show. Dionysus respected that, even loved him for it, but his patience had withered. “Yes. It is”, he rumbled, staring right back.

 Ariadne held his gaze but they both knew it was just for show, eyes flicking away to the ugly yellow bruise on his knee before glancing back, “Thank you.”

 Dionysus dipped his head in acknowledgement, whistling for his leopards who pulled his chariot closer, “Eat, bathe, rest, dress. My people are all about the island, if you call for company they will come.”

 Ariadne nodded, eyeing the leopards who were stretching out their necks to try and smell him. Dionysus watched him hesitate, reaching out to offer his hand for them to sniff. As he suspected she would Melitta rubbed her head against his palm, startling a laugh out of Ariadne when she tried to get closer to him and Dionysus was loathe to pull her back, “You can say hello later, we need to go see Asclepius now”.

 Melitta let out a low rumble of displeasure but fell in beside her sister, pulling to get the chariot moving and they disappeared in a swirl of cloud.

 

                                                                                    _X_X_X_

 

 The colour of the ocean was more intense this morning, the unknown and unknowable depths reflected in the vibrancy of the colour. It was not quite blue it was so rich in tone, almost the rich purple Kings wore, almost the colour of blood pooling in the dark.

 Ariadne looked down at his shaking hands. He had never had a drop of his brothers blood upon them, not like the Athenians who had been splattered in it, and yet they shook all the same.

 Digging his nails into his palms he struck his thighs once, twice, until the trembling subsided enough for him to reach for the plate next to him and carefully picked up a soft Peach. He had only ever seen them when ambassadors from the East would bring them as gifts, the scent of them something he used to savour. He considered it now, running his thumb over the soft fuzz on the skin before replacing it and picking up a handful of figs which he began ripping into as he tilted his face up towards the sun.

 If he had counted back correctly - he had always had a skill with numbers so it probably was - it had been eight years since he had felt the heat of the sun on his bare face. Zeus, how he had missed the way it prickled against his nose and across his cheekbones! It almost surprised him when it made a broad smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes and revelled in the simple pleasure.

 Sensing someone coming to stand beside him he opened his eyes, regarding Silenus who was looking out over the distant islands, brushing his fingers through his moustache, “Can’t buy a view like that can you?”, he muttered, groaning as he lowered himself to sit down on the sand a respectful distance from Ariadne, “So, you not so lil’ red-headed beaut, how does it feel to be clean?”

“Good. Nice to feel the weather on my face again.”

“You never went outside without all that on your face?”

Ariadne shook his head, “Only at night when no-one would see me.”

“Sound’s like you didn’t particularly enjoy that?”, Ariadne nodded, “Life is short and hard, mortal lives are so fragile. I don’t get why you all force one another to do things you hate, “ Silenus said, settling back on his hands, “There is nothing better than a breeze in your hair and the sun on your skin. Let’s you know you’re alive.”

“I feel...very aware of everything. I’m not sure if that’s feeling alive.”

 He could feel Silenus looking at him so reached out to offer him the peach, “Oh, thank you very much. Very decent of you, little brother”, Silenus tossed the peach in the air and caught it a couple of times, asking with a care that until then Ariadne would not think he was capable of, “What do you feel aware of?”

 He had never been very talkative, his deepest thoughts had only ever been for his sister’s ears and no-one else, and maybe it was the week of isolation, of the barren years since her death, or the feeling of non-judgemental kindness and wisdom the Teacher gave off, but he found himself speaking his heart, “That I cannot go home, and cannot go anywhere else. The protection of being my Father’s child is lost to me now, after what I did who will expect him to avenge any wrong done to me. I have skills but no idea how to _be_ around people and…”, he carefully weighed half a fig in his hand, “It’ll be part of his story now, his fame, stealing away a foreign princess, deflowering them and then leaving them behind. That’s all I am now, a traitor and a wh…”, he swallowed the last word, straightening from his slouch and taking a breath of sharp sea air.

 If all he had left was pride then he was dam well going to cling to it.

“I’m glad you stopped where you did, for your sake. Self-worth is the most vital thing we have, and yet so fragile. You keep it, you barricade it in and you treasure it, because I have lived a long - not always pleasant - life, and I have seen lesser guilt destroy greater people than you”, he took a bite of the Peach, wiping the juices from his chin with the skirt of his himation, “It may not sound like it, but that was an encouraging thought.”

 Ariadne’s lips were parted, ready to let his secret fly out into the world, the only thing he had kept so deeply hidden this past week that he could treat it like an old, familiar piece of furniture and not the tragedy he knew it to be. But there was a smell of pine, a swirl of wind, and he let it die on his tongue as Silenus turned to greet Dionysus, Ariadne letting his eyes slip once again to the ever deep ocean.

 

                                                                                    _X_X_X_

 

 Asclepius had not been persuaded away from his healing temple on Kos, at the very edge of the wine dark Mediterranean sea. Mortal’s always flocked to him for help and Dionysus could find no fault in his unwillingness to pull himself away from their plea’s for aid because he had never been able to do that either. Their lives were so painful and short, those who lived forever in good health and perfect youth should do all they could to ease their hard mortal lives.

 In his place Asclepius sent the goddess of healing itself, his daughter Aceso. She was kind, if somewhat abrupt and straightforward, but then again if you are always called upon by the desperate and those in pain you have little room for the florid nature of most gods.

 She hopped down from her chariot before it had fully stopped, marching across the sand and calling out in her commanding, bell like voice, “Silenus, most wise teacher, we meet again. Ariadne, child of Minos of Crete. Greetings. I am Aceso, daughter of Asclepius, and I have come to tend to your wounds.”

 Ariadne scrambled to his feet, and even though Aceso was much smaller than him he seemed to shrink before her. Dionysus stepped down from his chariot with a frown pulling at his brows, turning his leopards away from her horses as he moved closer to them, nodding a hello to Silenus.

“I did not wish to pull you away from the sick. If I had known I would have insisted on coming to you…”

“If a god bid’s you stay it is for good reason. I do not mind, healing is my calling”, she said kindly, holding her hands out to him palm upwards, “May I?” Ariadne nodded and Aceso moved closer, throwing a quick look over her shoulder at Dionysus as she cautiously placed her hand on Ariadne’s arm. He felt himself blush even has his frown darkened - he was the Wild god but he wasn’t some kind of snarling beast ruled by the basest of instincts. And even if he was, Ariadne was not his. He cared very little for what the whole damn crowd of Olympians thought of him but them knowing he was so moonstruck over a mortal was lodged under his skin. They had no right to his business, most of them had not given him a thought until he had come howling into Greece to avenge his mother in the only way he could, destroying those in his mortal family who defamed her memory without a single god lifting their finger to defend her.

 The clank and chime of pots drew his attention back to a beach bathed in warm morning sunlight and a sweet scented ocean breeze, to Ariadne sat on the sand with Aceso bent over him rubbing something honey coloured onto his shoulders while he did the same with his feet.

 “It’s a ointment with Ambrosia in it, it will work as you have immortal grandfathers”, she explained as she straightened, pushing away a dark lock of hair which had come loose from her bun, “Tonight you will dream of a meadow in bright sunshine and your feet will be healed, all physical hurts are but a memory. I can heal nothing more, it is beyond my power, but I will say that even the blackest despair is not as dark as the underworld. ”

 Ariadne nodded, glancing at Aceso to thank her, the sunlight catching his hair and on the curve of his smooth cheek and Dionysus found himself moving closer, fingers itching with a desire to touch even in the most chaste of ways, “What?”

 Aceso glanced at him, it clearly writ on her face that she had assumed he knew what they had spoken of and was regretting bringing it up. He regretted hearing it as well if it was not his secret to know but he had heard it now, and gods could not forget.

 “Dionysus…”, Silenus started, whether to distract or explain never to be known because Ariadne looked him in the eye and let him see how easy it would be for him to walk out into the ocean and let it drown him.

 Later on he would be ashamed of the rage he flew in to. He knew this was a time for gentleness and willing support he could not contain himself. Gods felt in a way that would burn a mortal, destroy them utterly, and he this  feeling consumed him as the trees that lined the shore groaned and creaked with the force of it.

 He vaguely heard Silenus calling to him over the shrieking in his ears as he turned to look over the sea towards the mainland, towards an anxious father waiting on a clifftop to see if his son had succeeded and lived or failed and died, towards the slow moving Athenian ship which was barely half a day away from Athens, catching sight of a man crowned with pale curls sat at the prow with his head bowed, lips pressed against his clenched fists.

Was this regret? Guilt? _Remorse_?

 He snarled, the sand vibrating around him, kicking up with the sudden breeze as he moved to call on Triton to draw up a great wave to smash that boat to splinters and drown the whole damned lot of them. They should all be dead anyway, only drawing breath now because of a happy chance and the kindness of another. He was returning things to how they should be.

 A strong hand grabbed the back of his chiton and he almost stumbled, his power rippling under his skin as he whirled around to stare right back into Ariadne’s hard, terrified eyes, the wind swirling around them whipping his hair across his face.

“Do not throw away your pride by begging for his life!”, Dionysus shouted, his voice rumbling across the island like an earthquake, stopping Aceso and Silenus in their tracks as they made to pull Ariadne away, “He doesn’t deserve you to care for it.”

“If I could go back  I would still save them because my Father’s punishment on Athens was too harsh and my sister would have been appalled to see it done for her sake. Of our brother being used like that. And I’d either be as I am now or suffering the punishments I’d deserve for breaking the law.”

“They abandoned you!”

“Athens barely counts all those who live in her land as citizens, what would I be with my painted face and foreign words and clothes? Child of the man who had twenty eight of their children eaten? Would my Father not come across the sea to take me back and spill more of their blood?”, Ariadne swallowed, “The only place I could live free was right here. And then you found me”, he spoke quietly as he dropped to his knees, holding out his hands to Dionysus in the proper way to ask something of a god, “Please don’t undo something I did willingly. Do not make all this worth nothing. I ask for their lives.”

 Dionysus breathed deeply, feeling some of his anger fade away as he shifted closer to him, “You cannot ask me to do nothing.”

“I ask you to give them their lives”, he gave Dionysus a level look, mouth pulled into a thin line, a dark angry flush on his cheeks, “I do not ask you to not make Theseus suffer for betraying the trust I had in him. For being a coward and leaving without a word. For knowing I would have to be abandoned here and not telling me, making me look a fool.”

 A grandson of a god, in beauty as well as temperament, on his knees in supplication and yet still so bold. How Dionysus loved him. He joined him on the sand, holding his hands between his, pressing their foreheads together to breathe in his warmth, smiling when rough fingers squeezed his own.

 He stood and marched down to the shore, calling on a quick wind to take him to the ship.

 “Lord”, Ariadne called and Dionysus turned to look at him, still knelt in the sand with such a look of conflicted agony on his face, pressing his eyes closed as he tangled his fingers in fabric covering his thighs, “There was an agreed signal, if Theseus succeeded in his plan the ship would use a white sail, if not the black one would remain up, so his father King Aegeus would know he still drew breath.”

 The mortal part of him that came from his mother knew the agony he had gone through to tell him that, to dam an innocent father who loved his son more than life. He could feel it as well, knew what he was about to do was terrible, yet he also knew how gods needed revenge - that the part of Ariadne that was from Zeus was screaming for blood, to make Theseus hurt like he was, would find no peace until he had it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariande - Dex  
> Dionysus - Nursey  
> Silenus- Shitty  
> Triton - Chris Chow  
> Aceso - Volleyball April? (I needed a lady in this)  
> Artemis - Lardo (I needed more than one lady in this)  
> Hermes - Ransom (and he's Asclepius too, because he can be)  
> Apollo - Holster  
> Attendant - Bitty.  
> Theseus- A LAX bro, but one of the nice ones.
> 
> ___________________
> 
> Yeaaah...moral grey areas all around.
> 
> Is the white make-up a metaphor for western gender/sexuality norms and it's removal a metaphor for throwing them aside? It wasn't meant to be but when I re-read the whole thing it kinda was so I went back to treat that whole subject better/ go into a bit more depth in the next chpt. It wasn't supposed to be there so hope I don't fuck it up.


	2. Chapter 2

 

_His heart was beating so high in his throat he was almost gagging on it. His stomach a painful twist that had him hunched over where he squatted in the thick black shadows, the yawning mouth of the Labyrinth which spat out the foul smell of gore and sweat and terror seeming to stare right back at him, ears straining to catch a sound under the breeze shifting through the Cypress trees surrounding him._

_At first he thought the rumble was of one of the great palace door’s opening, then maybe the waves of a winter storm against the rocks. Then he realised it was a great bellow of agony, of betrayal. His betrayal. Could almost hear his name in the sound which seemed to shake the ground beneath his feet - for who else could it ever be who would do this thing? Who else was so selfish and faithless and soft-hearted as to do this?_

_He had to close his eyes, turning his face away from that piteous noise, of the sound of frantic, terrified feet trying to be quiet at they moved over the stony ground in front of him, hoping they would pass by and leave him to whatever fate his actions would merit._

_The scent of the hot summer sun on an olive grove hit him and he looked up into wide grey eyes turned dark in the moonlight, a streak of black blood on his jaw, “It is done. Come with_ _me.”_

 

“Mortals always get caught in the middle of these things, I’m sorry it’s come to this”, Silenus said quietly, jolting Ariadne back to the beach.

“Thank you,” he rasped, shaking his head to clear it of the inhuman sound of Dionysus’ voice that he could swear was still echoing around Naxos, “Really. Thank you.”

“You know this won’t make you feel any better?”

 Ariadne nodded, “I know.” He pushed himself upwards and brushed off his knees, taking a moment to collect himself before turning to Aceso who was wide eyed and almost frantic.

 “Lord Dionysus brings relief to bitter feelings, I assumed he knew, that was why he was here. If I had known I never would have said a word…”

 “There is no need for apologies. I was not going to try and hide it from him”, he took a deep breath, blinking away the clear image of pale eyes flashing dark purple as they had stared down at him, something crackling in their irises, “although I do wish it was not like this.”

 Aceso came forward, reached for his hand with both of her’s but pausing before she touched him, “I am sorry.” Ariadne smiled and found he meant it, wanting to reach out to reassure her but knowing that was unwise when the air around her skin seemed to fizz, the ripple of a god's anger still creaking through the trees unsettling her as much as it did him.

 She offered to sit with him but Ariadne persuaded her to go back to Kos. She had done more than enough for him and he was not any more important than the sick people who had come to her and her sisters temple for aid, they should not have to linger on his account. She understood and Ariadne found he was sad to see her go as he waved back at her as her Chariot moved into nothingness.

 He stood looking up at the tree’s, considering going up to the high peak again to walk away the...the...he had not been frightened of Dionysus, but his reaction had been frightening in the same way a thunderstorm was. Which, Ariadne supposed as he crossed his arms over his chest and dug his toes into the warm shifting sand, was like the way his flares of anger used to send people scattering in the palace on Crete. He smiled at the thought of the similarity ending with the stirring up of storm clouds, those had definitely put his fits of temper into perspective.

 It was not like he had not known he was in the presence of a god before then but seeing it, feeling it, was a very different kind of knowing.

 He glanced up when he felt Silenus approaching, the Satyr’s moustache wriggling under his nose as he gave Ariadne a careful look, almost as if he was going to say something comforting but thankfully refrained, “Triton has come to see you, if you wish to see him?”

 Ariadne glanced over his shoulder at the man who appeared no no older than him stood in the shallows arranging a pale sea-green himation around himself, the shadows of sea creatures moving lazily around his feet under the gentle tide. “If I wish to see him?”, he asked with a smile, holding his hands out to indicate himself, “Who am I to refuse?”

 Silenus gave him a tired, unimpressed look, “You still think you are like everyone else. You are determined to cling to being an ordinary mortal but you are not. Especially now. An Olympian god came to you, you have a much wider influence now than you ever had stuck safely behind palace walls. People will listen when you speak. Be careful and be aware, you are responsible for more than yourself.”

 No-one had spoken to Ariadne like that before. The tone he was more than familiar from the stern talking-to’s his father would give him but those had been about acceptable behaviour and duty to their family, he had never encouraged responsibility beyond that nor betterment in himself.

 He dropped his gaze as he took stock of himself, patting down his borrowed clothes to shift any sand out of the folds. Taking a deep breath he glanced back at Silenus to give him a tight lipped smile.

 "Good”, he turned to wave Triton closer, “he is very friendly.”

 The god hurried over, a bright grin on his face which immediately put Ariadne at ease, smiling back when they stood facing one another to formally introduce themselves, “We have nowhere to sit apart from the sand, but I can ask for food or wine if you want?”

 “Food is always welcome. And the sand will do nicely, thank you.”

 They sat on a blanket talking pleasantries, Silenus presenting Triton with a bowl of ambrosia with an extravagant flourish which made him laugh, a gentle sound like an incoming tide gurgling over smooth rocks, Silenus shooting Ariadne a playful wink as he moved away to leave them be.

 “I was planning to come and have D finally introduce me to you, and then...well”, he bit his lip, the pleasant expression on his face becoming like the sea under a stormy sky, “I can only guess at what made him so angry, but I’ll put money on it being to do with my half brother.”

“Half brother?”

“I have never met him, but Theseus is both my father’s son and the son of the King of Athens”, he glanced at Ariadne, “and he has done you wrong.”

“He brought me here and Dionysus found me, so it is not such a great wrong as I thought.”

 Triton raised an eyebrow at him, “Do you really believe that or do you feel like you have to?”

“I know one day it will be the truth.”

 Triton nodded, sipping from his ambrosia and letting out a content little sound that made Ariadne smile even though Triton seemed to be steeling himself, “Athena made this plan in order to free Athens of it’s blood debt to your father. No god may interfere with the plans of another so if I or Dionysus had known you would be collateral we would have not been able to do a thing about it. Theseus was doing as Athena bid him do, I cannot apologise for that, but I will for the careless way in which he did it.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. This had nothing to do with you….I mean you - what happened was not your doing…”

“Dionysus is my friend and my blood relative caused you pain”, he said as if that was explanation enough and Ariadne sat up straighter, taking in a deep, sharp breath.

 He was no fool, he knew from the moment a great Olympian god had grown him a bed that it had been more than the luck of coincidence that he had chosen to rest on the very island Ariadne was abandoned on. But why he had come, and for what, had been unknown to him until…

“He...I was known to him before now?”

 Triton’s warm brown eyes flicked over his face rapidly as he twisted to face him, “He did nothing indiscreet, your privacy has never been broken. He has always respected you.”

“He does not know me. Yesterday was the first time we said one word to one another...unless he disguised himself as someone I…”

“No. No! No deception, no tricks. He saw you from afar and watched from afar”, he paused and pulled a face, “That...sounded not so innocent out loud.”

“Why did he not…”, Ariadne swallowed past the heavy lump in his throat, “...am I here because Athena wanted to do her little brother a favour?”

“You are here because you were a means to an end”, Triton said sharply, “And he never came to you because, well - it all sounded very fraught and complicated when he explained it to me. You not really liking him, coming between you and your father. Something to do with anxiety? I have no mortal blood in me so I do not understand it at all…”, the cold, tight feeling in Ariadne’s gut loosened, ducking his head to hide the relief in his smile, “...but I think you understand why?”

 He glanced up at Triton who was trying to catch his expression, something like softness in his eyes, “Yes. I do. Sometimes wanting things a lot makes you afraid of it.”

 Triton made a confused sound, not seeming very convinced by that, “I don’t need to tell you about us immortals. We love suddenly and all consuming, reach out to grab whatever we want”, he sighed and pushed his damp hair out of his eyes, tipping his lovely head back into the warm sunshine and looking every inch the god, “It’s good you like him. I don’t fancy dealing with him clogging up my inlets with ivy and souring next year’s wine while rotting this years grapes as they hang on the vines.”

“Glad to be of help.”

 Triton smiled, “He’s all right. The occasional dramatics are all part of the charm. And his heart is very soft,” Ariadne swore he could taste sea-water behind his teeth when Triton lay a light hand on his arm as he leant in closer to speak in a low voice as if they were not the only people sat in this little cove, "And it is totally besotted by you”, they looked at one another, Triton’s eyes flicking over his face as he sat back, “but you already knew that didn’t you?”

“Maybe not besotted. I…”, he swallowed and looked away, “...It’s been a difficult week.”

“Yes. It has for you, hasn’t it? Not really the time for talk of romance and shy glances from afar”, Triton planted his hands in the sand and leant back on them, crossing his feet at the ankles as the receding tide suddenly surged up to touch the soles of his feet, “You look strange without all that paint on your face. In a good way.”

“Thank you.”

“The sun marks on your face are a surprise.”

Ariadne glanced at the hundreds of marks covering his arms and legs, “Really?”

“I have none on my face but loads of them on my shoulders, look”, Triton twisted, pulling his himation off his shoulder to tap at the faint brown marks on his warm coloured skin.

“I was always told they were a sign of the imperfection of my father’s house”, Ariadne said quietly, daring to trace them with a fingertip, smiling when Triton laughed.

“Us Olympians would all be littered with them if that were the case”, he paused, Ariadne feeling his gentle attention shifting away from him, “I was in the area because _someone_ called up a storm and disturbed all the waves, so I thought I’d come and say Hello.”

 There was the sound of a violent breeze screaming up the beach and into the trees but not a grain of sand moved nor a hair on their heads shifted and Dionysus stood before them looking tired and pale, eyes fixed on Triton, “Since when did you need to be undressed to do that?”

“Do _not_ ”, Triton warned as he rearranged his clothes, jabbing a finger at his shoulder where the sun-marks were, “Mortal’s are spreading their usual shit about purity and perfection." Dionysus gave a small, chastened nod of his head as his eyes flicked to Ariadne, the look in them startling him to his feet.

“Lord…”

“Don’t.”

“Dionysus…”

“It is all done.”

 Silenus had been right of course. He still felt hollowed out and humiliated, this did nothing but satisfy his shameful vicious pride but that would have to do. Theseus had been young and thoughtless and Ariadne had been angry, wanting to lash out, to hurt, to restore slighted honour - it is what it is, and what it always shall be.

 He did not know what to say- a Thank You would be in poor taste and he was not stupid enough to ask a god if he was okay when he was looking so human. He set cautious fingers on Dionysus’ wrist, shifting closer when he did not pull away like he half expected him to.

 Triton came to his other side and slapped Dionysus on the back, “Come and sit. I have some Ambrosia, it’ll make you feel better.” Dionysus glanced at Ariadne, a weight in his eyes like he wanted to say something, and sat, taking the cup from Triton and gratefully draining it, a warmth coming back to his cheeks, “It’s not impossible to do things outside of our realm of influence”, Triton explained, “It’s just difficult”, he paused, then frowned at Dionysus, “but you’ve mucked about on boats before now, turning Pirates into Dolphins?”

"That is hardly taking a life", Dionysus muttered, Triton going to speak but his attention flicked to Ariadne and he remained silent, “I made Theseus forget to change the sale, his father thought his son was dead and stepped right off the cliff. Easy as that. Lord Hades will treat him well in the Underworld but…”, he shook his head, looking up at Ariadne again with an expression he did not dare read, “You know my uncle the King of Thebes died at the hands of his mother and aunts?"

"I...I uh", Ariadne stopped himself from looking to Triton for help, "Yes, I do."

"You know I made it happen?"

"...I do."

"Have you heard how they say he died, how his own mother tore his..."

"Yes I know. I know"

 Dionysus shook his head, "And yet you are not afraid of me at all, are you?”

“No.”

“Not even now I have robbed a son of his father for you?” 

 Ariadne swallowed, the hair on his arms prickling, "No."

“And what if I demanded something in return?”, Dionysus asked lightly, on his feet and gripping Ariadne by the arms before he could react, “What if I exercised my right as an Olympian and kept you as my own, would you fear me then?”

“I would feel ashamed and foolish for being so naive yet again, but I would not be afraid of you.”

“I can't tell if you really are a fool or just stubborn!”

“Yes I am!”, he shouted, dragging one of Dionysus’ hands from his arm, “I am ill tempered and disobedient as well. But you wouldn’t know that from watching me while I was paraded around like a horse at a fucking fayre!”

 Dionysus reeled, snapping a glare at Triton, “You!”

“ _Yes he told me_!” 

 Triton was glancing between them not looking very sorry, “I’m the _Deus Ex Machina_ of this tale, what did you expect?”

"My father was  _feeding Athenians to my half-brother,_ you can try and frighten me all you like but you will not succeed", he hissed, rocking back on his heels before leaning back in, "I know you Dionysus. You are not the brash, stuck up, half-feral god everyone assumes you are!", Ariadne dug his fingers into the hand on his arm but did not try to pull it off, "If you expected me to be a shy, sheltered, demure little thing then I am sorry to disappoint you!"

 Dionysus breathed hard as they stared at one another, the skin on Ariadne's arm tingling where it was in the gods grip, “If I had come to you in disguise and been found out no one would think it was a chaste meeting. And if I had come as _myself_ …”

“I am not angry about that”, he breathed, “How could I be angry at you for being considerate and kind.”

 The way Dionysus looked at him made it clear no-one had said such things to him before, a pretty flush gracing the line of his cheekbone and Ariadne wanted to curl in on himself rather than face how beautiful he was. Triton could paint the most sweet picture of pure, pining love but wanting was not always as good as having, and he was neither as he had seemed nor what he once was.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because you are angry!", he snapped, prickled, and then sighed, "and I don’t know when to back down.”

 They looked at one another, Dionysus dropping Ariadne’s arm and taking a half step backwards, “I’m leaving here tomorrow, I need to go to Egypt.”

“I hope your journey is peaceful”, Ariadne said and meant it.

 Several things passed across Dionysus' face while he looked at him long and hard, almost speaking several times but pressing his soft lips together to keep the words on his tongue. He made as if to turn, whether to speak to Triton or walk away from him Ariadne could not tell, then seeming to reach a decision, tipping his chin up and setting his shoulders as if he were about to make a speech, “I am not disappointed by your character. I never thought you would be demure. I...I would admire you from afar even after being shouted at by you.”

“...Thank you.”

"I know your options are limited in regards to leaving this island. If you wish you are welcome to accompany me - us - for as long as you like. You will of course have a place of honour. If you do not wish to come I will not be angry, I will have you as priest of my altar and, if you want, I will come and visit you here…”

“I will go with you”, Ariadne smiled at the flushed, pleased look on his noble face, reaching out to catch him by the arms when he tripped over his feet as he scrambled to stand close. He did not have a lot of choice in how to leave or where to go, he was very aware of that, yet he liked to think he was still rash and headstrong enough that if he had his pick of half the Mediterranean the sweet young man who just happened to be a god might still be his choice.

 “You will!”, he gushed, beaming brightly then seemed to reign himself in, finally allowing himself to glance back at Triton who was stood in the surf which bubbled and gurgled excitedly around his feet looking almost as nervous as Dionysus suddenly was. Ariadne was reminded of how young he was for a god, barely into manhood just like him, and tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“Ariadne of Crete”, he said formally, reaching out to touch fingers to the back of his hand, “By my nature I travel from place to place and stay in each a few months at a time. My house is wherever I am. I know that in Greece bringing...bringing someone into your house is marrying them. If you come with me it will be, in the eyes of my father Zeus, as if I had brought you to my house as in a marriage. That would be...I would be greatly honoured and pleased to have you as my husband for as long as you wished to remain with me - I demand nothing from you - but you may not wish for this so I must warn you before you...”

 "I will come all the same", Rash, selfish, romantic, foolish Ariadne said. 

 The smile on Dionysus’ face was bright and warm, gapped toothed and beautiful, his whole being thrumming as Ariadne grabbed his hands, a faint roar of joy and a peal of music coming across the island on the faint breeze.

 His hands were raised between them, fingertips trailing lightly over the dusting of sun-marks on his wrists, “I will give you a crown to match the stars upon your skin.” Those were the same words Theseus had whispered to him as they hid in the hull of the ship waiting for the tide to come in, lightly kissing the sun’s painted on his cheeks, trailing his fingers over the marks on his back, the first time anyone had touched him under his clothes. He let out a sound, shocked by the pain in his chest, and tried to pull back but Dionysus held him fast, “He meant jewels, rocks from the dirt”, he sneered, “ _Baubles_. But I mean I will fling a crown of stars into the heavens, and it will be yours.”

“I do not ask for that.”

“I give it freely”, he leant their heads together, the ivy in his hair scratching Ariadne’s forehead but he did not mind, “you will be consort to an Olympian god, it will become normal.”

“I hope it will not. I know _you_ will never be normal.”

 Dionysus burst into loud, hiccuping laughter, “I knew I was right to love you from the moment I saw you.”

 

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 

 The summers were not the months of Dionysus. He was life from death - the lush freshness of re-growth in spring that came from the world slowly dying away in the autumn.

 He spent the baking hot Mediterranean summers travelling from one shaded mountain glade to another, this year doing his best to avoid his brothers and sisters with varying amounts of success. It was hard to avoid Artemis and her band of huntresses when they hunted through the very mountains Dionysus called home. They had always gotten along as she was content (if no-one annoyed her) to live and let live, giving Ariadne one of her long unreadable looks when Dionysus introduced him, face as stoic as it ever was, before treating them both with the same bland politeness she reserved for all men, staying just long enough to be civil before she went racing off through the undergrowth which parted obediently under the silent footfall.

 Hiding from Hermes was impossible so Dionysus did not attempt to. He came zipping by in his immaculate winged sandals, messengers hat sat as jauntily on his head as the smile was on his face which, as usual, sent nearly everyone into a blushing, giggling mess. Hermes gauged Dionysus’ mood as soon as he set eyes on him and restrained his natural nosiness, being smart and charming as he lounged on Dionysus' plush cushions telling tales with wild embellishments and making Ariadne laugh.

 Even if he had been a jealous god he would not have minded Ariadne's ease in his company, would not have minded a great many things as the day before Hermes had found them Ariadne had cut his lovely long hair.

 He knew grief took different paths through people, bringing a sense of relief to those internal agonies was one of his abilities, and it had been a while since, well, everything had happened so Dionysus had thought it an act of mourning at first. Hair was hair to him and he wore his long because it curled in beautiful black ringlets, not really understanding how mortals divided something as inconsequential as length of hair between people until Ariadne had not allowed his red tresses to grow back.

 Dionysus missed them but he had no complaints about seeing the contentment on his youthful face more clearly, nor the feeling of soft short hair prickling his hands when he would lazily throw an arm back to scratch his fingers through Ariadne's hair on the warm still evenings Ariadne would let him lounge back against his chest, the bent legs on either side of him making Dionysus feel small and that soothed him.

 He ripped apart boundaries, took the structure of mortal society and shook it, gave those who needed it the ability to break away, so he knew it was not easy for mortals to be what they were.

 

 

 Summer faded with Persephone returning to the underworld and to her loving husband, the cool breeze through the trees signalling the start of his sacred festivals.

“It’s a small one”, he explained as they watched the mortals clean and dress his ancient statue set in a sacred grove, “they adorn themselves, close the last vats of wine to ferment and drink the batch which was put away this time last year. It’s pretty much how all my festivals are around this time.”

“Adorn themselves?”

“Hmm? Yes, anything shiney”, he grinned over at Ariadne, “daringly paint their faces. I love it. Nature gives one last burst of vibrant, warm colour before the bleak cold of winter comes and the people who come to me join it. It is a good thing to have done in your honour.”

 Ariadne nodded and fell quiet as they continued to watch them clean the grove, Dionysus smiling as a young girl started playing a simple tune on a flute and her mother danced to it while she strung pine cones into a wreath for his statue. It was sweet moment made precious by how small and joyful it was. The frenzy that fell upon a few of his festivals was what all the stuck up poets and moralists talked about, blowing them out of all proportion, making it seem like everywhere he went he bought reckless-abandon and wildness. But this small moment of peace and happiness was all he hoped his presence could bring anyone.

“What have you told Ariadne?”, Silenus spoke suddenly in his ear, startling Dionysus who looked around to find the patch where Ariadne had been sat now empty.

“Nothing. Why?.”

“Nothing?”

“I explained the festival. Where is he?”

“Where you slept.”

 Dionysus did not bother asking again what was wrong as he knew he would not get an answer, picturing the canopy of vines he had grown between two low branched trees and slipping from where he knelt to there.

 His leopards were curled up in the entrance, Melitta looking inside with her ears twitching while her sister slept. She turned to rub her head lovingly against his leg when he appeared but looked at him with as much an expression of judgement as a leopard could manage, Dionysus giving her a weak look in return while he tried not to step on a tail or trip over them.

 Ariadne was squatted by the chest of Dionysus' belongings, the box which held all of his bottles of fine pigments and oils set on the soft grass in front of him, hands shaking as he tried to pick one up.

 “Ariadne?”

 He jolted, eyes half wild as he looked up at him, panic trembling through his voice, “I cannot do it. I cannot adorn my face. When I washed the paint away on Naxos I promised myself I would never to put it on again I felt so…”

 Dionysus folded his shaking hands in his own, pulling him away from the box and towards a soft pool of sunshine coming through the leaves, “You do not have to. You do not have to just because everyone else is.”

 “But you said...about the colours, how much you love it. How it is done for you”, Dionysus closed his eyes, dropping his forehead to rest on their joined hands as he reminded himself of how wrong it would be to influence Ariadne to do or feel anything, even if it was to rid him of this turmoil, “I wanted to...but I have misunderstood you.”

“No, no”, Dionysus straightened, freeing a hand to gently cup the back of Ariadne’s neck, “I love people being as they are or as they wish to be.”

 Panic began to leave Ariadne’s eyes in favour of embarrassment, his hands clenching in Dionysus' hold as he shifted on his feet, “I wanted to...I wish to look like your husband. I wish to look nice,” his gaze skittered away with a blush, “For - for you.”

 Dionysus stepped closer, ducking his head to meet Ariadne’s gaze, “The gods have adorned you already with flecks of gold in your skin and copper for your eyes. You carry the colours of the season with you always, any more adornment would be an insult.”

 Sweet words did not work on Ariadne as they did on others, he would neither swoon nor (surprisingly) blush but look a little petulant while he tried not to smile. He squeezed Dionysus’ hand before letting them go to nervously smooth out his clothes, “Will I do like this?”

“You will more than do, but only if you wish to come. I demand attendance of no-one.”

“I want to.”

“Then the evening shall be all the better for your company", Dionysus said, smiling when Ariadne rolled his eyes.

 Dusk came and torches mixed with sweet smelling Thyme and Sage were lit, a great ululating cry going up from the mortal women to signal the start of the festival.

 Ariadne started off uncertain of what was happening and what to do, looking hyper-aware of Dionysus’ hand in his, constantly tugging at the leopard skin slung over his shoulder and across his chest. Then, like a meadow under the first warm morning of the year he blossomed, dancing first with Dionysus before spinning off into the crowd with Silenus only to appear again much later on as flashes of red between the trees while he crashed through the undergrowth with a few of Dionysus' followers, whooping and shrieking out their laughter.

 Dionysus rarely joined in the festivities past starting them off as his presence was a pull on mortals when they let themselves go, he preferred to sit to the side and allow everyone the control their own actions by letting the revels swell and recede at their own pace. If Ariadne's shaking hands and ever tense shoulders were on his mind when he took the fear out of the darkness and made the spaces between the trees inviting in order to encourage a quarry-less hunt weaving noisily between them to the sounds of flutes and tambourines then that was his business and of no concern to anyone else.

 Physical hurts were beyond him, he could not cure a sickness nor heal a wound, but he could give relief from those ill's carried in the soul or in the mind by allowing a cathartic, purifying release of repressed and locked away emotions and energies.

 Eventually Ariadne found his way back to him looking sweaty and disordered, gladly taking the cup of honeyed milk offered, the looseness about him as he caught his breath while drinking it down bringing Dionysus contentment. 

 Ariadne crouched to scratch his fingers along the backs of the leopards lazing at Dionysus' feet who purred loud and deep, knocking their heads against his chin, before stepping over them with more grace than Dionysus had ever managed to perch carelessly on his knees, slowly slipping down to sit across his lap while singing and clapping along to the raucous songs sung late into the night. 

 

 

                                                                                     _X_X_X_

 

 

"I’d hope to see you before I left, little brother!”, There was a sparkle of sunshine, the heady smell of pines and a shadow fell over them, Ariadne blinking up at the figure who loomed over them while Dionysus just sighed, “And who is this pretty thing?”

“The Lord Apollo, this is Ariadne child of King Minos, my consort.”

“Ariadne of Crete!” Apollo boomed, stepping forward so they could see the huge smile on his face, “Look at you, I’d hardly believe it! Consort? I didn't know you had it in you brother”, he leered at them both, “Or with how strapping he is, maybe you do?”

“If you don't mind your own business you may just find out how strapping I am”, Ariadne bit out, glaring at Apollo with such force Dionysus would have laughed if he had not been so shocked. Ariadne did not have the sweetest temperament but he had always been respectful to any Olympian he met.

 But then again, they had always been respectful first.

 He shot a look up at Apollo who was staring down at Ariadne owlishly, finally sputtering out, “You threaten me?”

“I only advise, Lord.”

 Apollo turned to Dionysus, a slow smile spreading across his face, “You have a spit-fire there, I'm almost jealous.”

“I'm flattered”, Ariadne said, saccharine sweet, “Now if you've done gawping, I’ve got things to do”, he gave a sincere bow, arms held out to Apollo, before moving off among the throng of people carrying stuff into and out of Delphi.

“Well brother”, Apollo snorted, shooting him a wink, “I best be off. Enjoy the winter.”

“Enjoy keeping the east awake with your endless singing.”

 Apollo laughed, poking his cheek as he disappeared into another slant of sunshine breaking through the clouds laying low on the mountain.

 Dionysus put his hands on his hips, sighing as he looked down at the Hyacinths growing where Apollo had stood. "I cannot believe him...", he muttered, turning to call over the heads of his followers who parted to let him pass, “I cannot believe you spoke to Apollo like that!”

 Ariadne sent off the youth he was speaking to with a fond ruffle of their hair, sparing Dionysus a glance as he carried on his way,“ _You_ will not be spoken to like that.”

“There’s nothing shameful in what he implied”, Dionysus said softly as he moved closer.

“Of course. But he made it seem like it was.”

“He meant nothing by it.”

“Then I meant nothing by what I said”, Ariadne said airily, striding off again and Dionysus sighed as he watched him go.

"Welcome to Delphi", he grumbled to himself, hiking up his chiton as he went up into the ancient mystic caves where Time himself used to live to get away from Ariadne's mood.

 

 For all Apollo’s volume and dramatics the holy temples of Delphi were always in good order when he left it for the winter to tend to his temples in the east. The oracle was silent as the god of Prophecy was absent but the site was still sacred as well as being the only neutral ground for the constantly bickering city states of Greece to meet on so someone had to acknowledge offerings, answer prayers, accept sacrifices, fall asleep during arguments, and ratify oaths.

 That someone happened to be Dionysus.

 He had never minded the work nor the long quiet evenings, always found a restful peace in routine and liked seeing his followers throw themselves into making sure the whole site ran smoothly. He had hoped it would be the same for Ariadne, that it would be nice for him to be in a complex of buildings as he had spent most of his life in one, but he had been prickly before they arrived and restless since they got here, Dionysus often finding him watching him and not sure why.

 Silenus had advised letting Ariadne come to him when he was ready, Dionysus unsure if that was the right thing to do until - as predicted - Ariadne flopped down on the cushion next to him one evening while Dionysus was idly enjoying some chickpea stew (he did not need to eat but Ariadne did and always offered him some of what he cooked which was - without bias- always delicious).

“This is as much of a house as you have in Greece, isn’t it?”

“If you can call a sacred temple one, yes”, Dionysus said around a mouthful of food, “Why?”

 Ariadne fiddled with the drape of the himation he had wrapped around his shoulders, pulling it up and over his head like a hood so he had to peek at Dionysus from it, “You’ve brought me to your house. We’re really married now in the eyes of the law.”

 They looked at one another, Dionysus rapidly chewing and swallowing before nodding, “I suppose we are.”

 Ariadne seemed to be in almost physical pain as he worried at his bottom lip,  “I thought…”

 Dionysus put down his bowl and reached out to cup the back of his neck to encourage Ariadne look at him, “In my eyes I have been wed to you since you left Naxos with me which is why I did not think of this. If I had I would have spoken to you. But, no matter my feelings nor what the formalities state you may still leave whenever you wish and I still expect nothing from you.”

 Ariadne looked at him with his inscrutable gaze, covering the hand which had slipped from his neck to rest on his shoulder, “I know. Because you love me.”

 It did not feel quite as much like a slap in the face as when Ariadne had first said that, Dionysus brooding on it until he had come to him and knelt by his side on the rocky ground of the Italian mountain they had been on and had begged his forgiveness for his careless words.

“Yes.”

“And because you are kind and good.”

“That’s not for me to say, but I hope to be both.”

“You are. And that is why I have come to love you”, Dionysus barely had time to react before he had an armful of Ariadne, his solid body almost toppling them to the floor when he flung himself at Dionysus, lips clumsy against his cheek, “I regret every day I couldn’t say it to you.”

 Dionysus wrapped an arm securely around his waist and stood, setting Ariadne down on his feet and pressing a kiss to his mouth as chaste as all the others he had given him but this time letting it linger, his joy a sweet scent of flowers on the wind and a distant rumble on the mountaintop, “I was content to watch you become happier, to cast off the bonds and assumptions of society and be as you are. I do not have regrets.”

 Ariadne smiled and pressed close to kiss him again, clumsy still but less chaste than before, hand skimming lightly up and down Dionysus’ side while digging the fingers of the other into his bicep, smiling when Dionysus laughed against his lips and tightened his hold on him.

 A clear voice saying, “My Lord”, startled them apart, turning to look at the attendant leaning in the open doorway not looking all that embarrassed at walking in on them kissing, in fact he looked a little disappointed he’d had to stop them, “the Dryad’s have arrived.”

“I’ll be there in a moment”, Dionysus said, turning back to Ariadne but the attendant did not move, “A moment. Leave!”, he shooed him and he backed out of the door looking wholly un-chastened.

“It’s a good thing they’re early or he might have caught me with my hand inside your clothes.”, Ariadne blushed as he spoke softly against his lips, grinning when Dionysus groaned and tangled his fingers in his chiton.

“If I am to take you to bed then we will go to bed”, Dionysus said direly, smiling when Ariadne laughed at him.

“If only you were not dutiful”, Ariadne sighed with put on sadness, kissing him one last time before taking a step backwards.

“You would not love me if I were not.”

“I do love you.”

 Dionysus neatened his robes and stepped to the door, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

 The very stone around them rang out as he dragged the door open, “Again.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you”, he knew his expression was unbecoming for a god of wild nature but he did not mind because Ariadne was still blushing as he gave him an awkward wave goodbye.

 

 The Dryads were always fun, taking him up into the high mountain slopes to show him the golden autumn leaves on their sacred trees, plucking some to tuck into his curls in thanks for the wine he gifted them before dragging him (more than willingly) into a dance, their giggles sounding like the creaks and rustles of branches as they congratulated him on his marriage.

 He promised them he would bring Ariadne to them tomorrow evening when the light would be best between the trees and the way they looked at one another made him think they had somehow heard how his and Ariadne’s kisses had been interrupted and could not quite be mortal enough in that moment to be embarrassed about it.

 He strode back in to Delphi after sunset, a faint tinge of pink still in the sky which had not quite turned into the black of night, torches not yet needed to see the way between the rows of glinting statues and solid shadowy buildings. Not that he needed torches to see in the dark, the world and all that was in it was never hidden from him.

 He heard the sound of bare feet against the smooth stone of the pathways and glanced down at the attendant from earlier who was having to jog to keep up with his longer stride, “If it’s not a fire, death, or an Olympian turning up uninvited you are more than capable of handling it without me.”

“If you really want me to handle Ariadne I’d be happy to”, he skidded to a halt next to Dionysus, totally unaffected by the glare he was giving him, “He wished me to tell you he’s retired for the evening.”

“Thank you.”

 He made to head towards the main temple, it's gaudy colours lit by the fires burning in the colonnade, pausing when the attendant spoke up again, “Everyone also wanted me to give you their congratulations. Normal traditions mean but nothing to your Bacchants, but...we’re all very happy for you.”

 Dionysus rested his fists on his hips, looking up at the temple before gazing up into the sky which was not yet dark enough for stars to show but knowing Ariadne's were there all the same, filling his lungs with the scent of pine on the cold air. “Do you know I think I’m the only person who never realised bringing him here would make us married by Zeus' law”, he gave him a smile, “We will be one another's until we decide to be no longer, but I’m happy he has this in the eyes of the world."

 “We all think it’s very romantic, and are going to get screaming drunk in your combined honours if that’s okay with you?”

“I would be delighted. The wine will be sweet and the hangovers...bearable”, he spoke and so it was, accepting his friendly tap on the arm as the attendant hurried off into the gloom.

 

 The rooms where a god lived were at the back of the great temple, unseen and unknown by the mortals. Apollo had set off a warm south facing chamber for his younger brother to use when he took over Delphi for the winter (neither of them wanted him to stay in Apollo’s bedchamber, and especially not his bed), letting him cover the ceiling with vines and the stone floor with thick carpets from Asia, gifting him a bed inlaid with mother of pearl in one of his more caring, familial moments.

 The chamber was lit with oil lamps, the golden glow making it feel more warm than it was. Ariadne was twisted under the furs piled on the bed so he could read by the lamplight, brow drawn down in a scowl and lips pursed in concentration.

 “What are you reading?” Dionysus asked to catch his attention as the sound of the closing door had not.

 Ariadne’s eyes were cast into shadow when his head snapped around to look at him but Dionysus still felt them on him, preening slightly at the catch of breath Ariadne was not able to swallow, “Umm, oh. Nothing exciting, a mathematical treatise from Egypt.”

“Do you find it interesting?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is exciting”, Dionysus said as he crossed the room, perching on the side of the bed to pull off his soft doeskin boots before flopping down next to him with a sigh.

 Ariadne carefully put down what he was reading and shifted onto his side and raised himself up on an elbow to look down at Dionysus, fingertips smoothing his curls against the pillow and delicately plucking a golden leaf from his hair.

“The Dryad’s put them there. They want to meet you, I said I would bring you to them tomorrow.”

“That’s fine”, Ariadne muttered, tilting the leaf so it glittered in the soft light before tucking it back into one of Dionysus’ curls, “Your skin is glinting that colour.”

“You’ve seen me in lamplight before.”

 Ariadne shrugged one broad shoulder, “Your skin was golden then too.”

“Contrary”, Dionysus said softly, dragging the backs of his fingers up and down Ariadne’s arm, “but I like that.”

“Lucky me”, Ariadne pecked a kiss to his eyebrow, the curve of his eye socket, his cheek. His mouth when Dionysus tipped his chin up to demand one there and smiling when he got it.

They spent a time speaking softly to one another, touches gentle, kisses sweet, until Ariadne heaved a great sigh and, much to Dionysus’ displeasure, took his hand away, “I’m sorry for not thinking us really wed until now…”

“Ariadne…”

“I know better. You showed me, made it so I could see how meaningless such constructs can be. So I could accept what I am and what I want. You have been so kind and yet…”

“You were abandoned once, and now you know you will not be abandoned again”, he took Ariadne’s hand from his stomach and kissed his knuckles, “Men may abandon their wives, but I am not a man and you are not a wife. I am who soothes all suffering, who eases all troubles, and I am gladdened to do it for you.”

 Ariadne nodded, sweeping his thumb under Dionysus’ eye to tidy the kohl around them which was always smudged by the end of the day, inspecting the mark on his thumb before doing the same for the other eye. He had never had someone to have a care like that for him - when Silenus noticed such things he would lick his finger to wipe it away because he was as annoying as he was wise- and as a god he had never needed it. He was more than capable of wiping smudges from under his own eyes or choosing to remove the leaves caught in his hair or tug his Chiton back onto his shoulder if it slipped while he was dancing. When he had quietly spoken to Ariadne about him not needing to look after him he had received a filthy look and had not brought it up again, instead cherishing every little warm action of affection that the mortal part of him wept with the relief of having it.

“Where have you wandered off too?”, Ariadne asked, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 “I’m being foolish”, Dionysus declared, wrapping an arm lightly around his waist, “I’m thinking of you while you’re right in front of me.”

“That sounds like the opposite of foolish to me”, Ariadne kissed his cheek, his jaw, and then his mouth again, smoothing his hand back down to press on Dionysus’ stomach as if he wanted to keep him down, “Would you like me to touch you?”

 He was tempted to make a crack about being a fertility god but thought better of it, “If you would like to touch me.”

 Ariadne peppered his mouth with kisses as he gathered up Dionysus’ chiton, the soft fabric shifting over his thighs and groin making him gasp. He pulled at the fastenings, making a noise of protest when the it got stuck on his arms as he tried to pull the chiton out from under him. Making an even louder sound of protest one when Ariadne sat back.

 “Come on”, he muttered as he helped Dionysus untangle himself, handing him the bundle of glittering purple cloth to fold once he had freed him from it. He set if carefully on the table far away from the oil lamps and sat up to to find the expanse Ariadne’s back turned to him as he searched for something off the side of the bed. The strength there moved fluidly under his skin which was so liberally covered in sun-marks after a whole summer spent outside that he looked to have a smooth solid tan when Dionysus half closed his eyes.

 Ariadne jumped at the kiss pressed between his shoulder blades, shuddering at the hand Dionysus placed on his bare hip to roll over so they were face to face, a bottle of olive oil used for the skin clutched tightly to his chest, “Sorry. I'm still not used to being touched.”

“As long as you wish me to.”

“I do”, Ariadne darted forward to kiss him.

“Good”, Dionysus kissed him again, “I don’t have any clothes on anymore but I’m still hoping for you to show me what you were going to do beneath them earlier.”

 Ariadne snorted, shoving Dionysus onto his back and settled half on top of him, pressing a thigh between his and resting his forearm on the pillow so Ariadne could gaze down at him, eyes skipping over his face while Dionysus popped the cork out of the bottle and tipped some of the fruity smelling olive oil into Ariadne’s palm.

“If you wish to stop I will not be angry.”

“I know. Neither will I.”

 Dionysus smiled, warm to his toes, breath catching as Ariadne brushed his fingertips on a lazy, winding path over his chest and down his stomach, flushing brightly when Dionysus arched into his first firm, slick touch. Hidden as he had been from such things he was unsure but determined, catching on quickly to what Dionysus liked and wanted when he laid a hand over his to guide the way.

“You are very beautiful”, he whispered against Dionysus’ cheek, sliding his mouth over to let Dionysus gasp against his lips, pressing his thumb in under the head of his dick and twisting his wrist as Dionysus rocked into his hand.

 He pushed at Ariadne until he was fully straddling his leg, gripping his waist to encourage him to rock his hips and grind down against the muscle of his thigh. “That's it”, he breathed as Ariadne ripped their mouths apart, head bowed and fingers tangling through Dionysus’ curls fanned out over the pillows as he rode his leg, not quite able to work his hand and hips in tandem but it was still so very good.

 Dionysus let his hands travel over him, up his back and across his straight shoulders, down his arms and back up to skim over his ribs, one hand laying there whilst the other went to fit between Ariadne’s legs, “All right?”

 Ariadne gave a whine in reply, head still bowed as his hips moved faster, letting out a hiccuping, desperate gasp when Dionysus curled his fingers, thumb rubbing in circles against him, not minding when Ariadne’s hand stuttered and stilled on his dick, content to leisurely touch him while Ariadne kept grinding down against his hand until he twitched, over sensitive, and stilled.

“Oh”, he sighed, flushed and sweating and warm, blinking down at Dionysus as he smiled a little bashfully, “I uh…”

“You were wonderful.”

 Ariadne looked doubtful but kissed him, resting his weight on him to press Dionysus down into the bed as he started moving his hand again, more confident than before but just as tender, smiling as he watched Dionysus squirm trying to thrust up into his hold but was pinned down.

 Dionysus pulled his hand out from between them when it started to get uncomfortable. He was unsure what to do with it for a moment, should he wipe it on the furs or trail the evidence of Ariadne's pleasure all over his skin, before he tilted his head to make sure Ariadne was watching when he licked the wetness from his fingers.

 “What are you…” Ariadne gasped, jolting back and looking at him with wide startled eyes.

 “Does it not please you?”, Dionysus asked coyly, grinning when Ariadne’s ears turned red, “The night is young, you are lovely”, he prised Ariadne’s fingers from him and dragged him down to nip at his bottom lip, “and pleasure should always be savoured like the sweetest, richest, darkest wine.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
